Tamed
by Femme Bono
Summary: From the movie "Wolf" (1994). Stewart Swinton finds someone who can put him in his place. He learns quickly that he is not top dog. Warnings for BDSM themes, esp domme and questionable consent.
1. Chapter 1

**Tamed**

 _There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls._ –George Carlin

Stewart Swinton crawled painfully out of the goldfish pond, his chest burning from the lead bullets burrowed into his flesh. Lacerations and contusions covered him from his fight with Will and from Laura's struggles. _Might have come on a bit too strong with Laura_ , he reasoned. One of his unfortunate gifts was to do and say the exact wrong thing at the worst time. Couldn't stop himself. Wincing and gasping at the pain, he staggered up and ran in the opposite direction of where Will had gone. He ran for ages, scaled an iron fence, nearly impaling himself in the process, and almost broke a leg when he dropped to the ground.

He crawled when he could no longer run, and finally exhausted, curled up in a small grove next to a spring and somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, lost consciousness altogether. He slept feverishly, shivering uncontrollably.

* * *

Stewart woke ravenous and with a powerful thirst. The sun was high and he had no idea where he was, but the wolf had taken over and with it, the burning in his chest had ebbed. He scrambled to the spring to slake his thirst and trod his hand over something cold and hard. Lifting his hand he saw blood crusted bullets and searchingly felt his chest. There were welts, quickly healing where his wounds had been and the bruises on his knuckles were already fading.

A strong scent caught his attention and he stilled, his nostrils unconsciously quivering as his eyes dilated. His hands flexed, claws growing from the nail beds and he sensed rather than saw the rabbit crouch under the nearby bush, trying futilely to blend into its environment. It was over in seconds, amid a flurry of fur and growling. The quick rush of blood into his mouth, spurred his appetite and he chewed, bone and meat together. It took him seconds to devour the rabbit. With a full belly and his thirst slaked, Stewart fell into a deeper, more restful and healing sleep than the one in the night. The sun broke through the trees overhead and he curled into the sunny spot, warming himself.

* * *

By the time he woke again, it was full dark.

Ella Arceneau walked swiftly through the forest she knew so well. It was her own inherited land, bordered by the Aldons' to the east and something shadowy had invaded it. Something…off. She felt it in her bones the moment she passed the gate and the threshold of the invisible border she had raised herself. She slowed her pace when instinct told her she was being watched, every muscle tensed on high alert and her pulse quickened unbidden. The tangy smell of rot assaulted her nostrils and she glanced down to see bits of fur and a smattering of blood on the ground. Rabbit. Her eyes narrowed at the bloodied bullets. Poachers? It didn't make sense. She spread her senses out around her, using her powers to locate him, for she knew he was male—just as she knew he waited and watched.

Stewart crouched, observing from behind a tree at what he deemed was a safe distance. The figure was slight, and smelled female. A low rumbling growl threatened to escape and he felt himself twitch with want. The previous night's lesson was still fresh on his mind, so though the urge to mate compelled him, he was hesitant to move. Until she dropped the hood on her coat and a stronger wave of scent assaulted his senses. He didn't realize the growl had escaped until he saw her stiffen and stop. In the moon's pale light, he saw her glance around warily, a wisp of frozen breath escaping full lips, waves of dark hair spilling over her shoulders.

He bounded before he thought and the frisson of panic she felt when she caught the movement on her periphery kept Ella from reacting in time. Before she knew it she was pinned, the man-beast growling above her and pawing at her. He nipped at her shoulder eliciting a shrill girlish yip. The sheer weakness of her reaction had her drawing power into her from the very ground itself. With the force of a grenade, Stewart felt himself suddenly thrown backwards, the breath knocked out of him as he landed against a tree. _That smarted_ , was his only thought before he realized the woman stood before him.

Ella fought the urge to blast him again. Her magic swirled outward from her, creating a palpable aura of righteous indignation and contempt. He looked small, crumped at the base of the tree, his furry clawed hands raised in defense. She took a sniff, tasting his energy on the breeze. Weak, cowardly, too full of himself. He needed to be taken down a notch or two…or a peg, she smiled slowly.

He staggered slowly up, sensing her hesitance to fell him completely. "I, uh—I'm sorr—"

"Don't even attempt to say it, werewolf," she spat. "You don't mean it. Besides," she added, sparing a glance at her shoulder where the bite stung painfully, "you've managed to turn me before much longer. There's no cure for a bite."

With a disgusted sneer she stalked toward him. Stewart had to fight the urge to bolt, though every instinct told him to. He had thought he was nearly unstoppable with his new powers, but this wicked beauty was an unknown variable and the power emanating from her was strong. If he had a tail, it would have been tucked. He glanced over his shoulder to the darkness of the woods.

"These are my woods," she laughed. "You would never get far."

Stewart almost yelped at how close her voice was, for when he glanced back they were nearly toe to toe. She reached up slowly, as if to keep from alarming him, and touched two fingers to his forehead. Stewart promptly dropped to the ground unconscious. Smiling smugly, Ella pulled the hood back up over her head and waved a hand over the werewolf's supine body. It rose, and much though she wanted to, she refrained from smacking his head into every tree on the way back to the house.


	2. Chapter 2

Cht 2

Stewart woke, feeling like a sleeping pill hangover was blanketing him in groggy dimness. He glanced around the low lit room, wondering where he was. There was a smoldering fire in a granite fireplace, putty colored walls, and old Turkish rugs. Books in built-in cases lined the walls, giving off the musty smell of old money and over all of it was the scent of _her_. _The girl from last night_ , he thought. A rustle of fabric behind him had him turning on the chaise where he lay, a crimson velvet throw draped over him. From the shadows of the room she emerged, the same dark woman from the night before.

"I've drawn the curtains for you, Mr. Swinton, as it's broad daylight," she said evenly, "and while you were sleeping I took quite the trip through your memories. You're an accomplished asshole."

He regarded her solemnly, sizing her up. She had knocked him out with a touch of her fingers. Small and slim she may be, but as fantastic as she smelled, there was a slight bite to her scent that he now reasoned must be the scent of magic. _Strange gypsy witch,_ he thought. _What did she see in my memories?_

As though she could hear his thoughts, she continued, "you slept with and killed your boss's wife, stole his job…you have lied, cheated and stolen your way to the top before karma caught up with you. And make no mistake, Stewart that is exactly what happened. She bitch slapped you and delivered you directly to me. You are a weak little troll of a beta, and you need a strong alpha to take you in hand."

She walked closer until she stood over the back of the chaise, looming over his seated form. She used the height difference to her advantage, intimidating him further, she knew. She reached across the back of the seat and carefully took his right hand.

"I traced your fate line," she said, tracing lightly over his palm. "It links with mine. We are connected, you and I, and it falls to me now as your chosen mate to train you properly."

"Wait a second, Miss…" he scoffed softly, "I don't even know your name, but—"

"I am Ella. I descend from the Medicis, even from some of the first Knights Templar. There are several distinguished lines running through my blood," she said, drawing herself up. "My family name is Arceneau. And by biting me, you recalcitrant fool, you have bound me to you."

"Hey, wait a second sweetheart," he began with a smirk, "I don't care who you are. I'm not exactly a—"

Smack! She delivered a backhand directly across his cheek.

"First of all, you don't get to call me sweetheart as we are not lovers. Second, you are now bound to me and as such will respect me. Like it or not. You will most certainly care. You have made quite a few powerful enemies as of late and whether you know it or not, you are in desperate need of my protection. You may be smarting from that slap, but I guarantee those bullets stung quite a bit more. And that won't even touch what your alpha wolf would do if he got ahold of you. The one who bit you…would go for your jugular after what you did to his mate."

At her slap, he had started to rise but as she spoke, with a calm voice she allowed her palm to hover over the open air above the chaise and lowered it slowly. As she did so, Stewart found himself compelled to sit. The bitch could physically force him to obey, but damned if he would do it willingly. His face was a mask of mutiny.

She smiled softly, holding the energy over him and refusing to withdraw it. If she did, she knew he would bolt up and attack. The wolf rose in him, his own animal power coursing through him, and he longed to go for her throat as he had Charlotte's. But her substantial power eclipsed his own and he sat, trapped and seething. Somewhere in the recesses of his human brain, he conceded that she was right as well. His days were numbered if Will ever got ahold of him.

"Now, now, Stewart," she whispered, leaning in close. "You're allowing your anger to cloud your instinct. You know you need me, and you know there is a threat out there that is only too willing to take you down. I saw the attack on Laura, on the other man's wife. You have naturally poor impulse control and it is exacerbated by your wolf nature."

In a flash, she grasped a handful of his hair and yanked until he leaned upwards so close to her face that he could feel her breath tickle his nose and her scent enveloped him, making other urges stir deep in his core. A low guttural rumble escaped and she laughed low. She lowered her gaze, watching his mouth. His tongue flicked out and licked his lips, his breath hitched. She closed the space between them and she felt the punch of energy as his energy bucked against hers. She chuckled into his mouth as she pushed back and tamped him down again, turning his growl into a frustrated whimper. Ella broke the kiss and tilted her head, smiling down at Stewart. His chest heaved and he writhed against her magic, trying in vain to break free and jump her. He wasn't sure just what he would do if he got ahold of her, and that, he realized slowly as his common sense took hold, was the problem.

"Like I said," she smiled archly, "poor impulse control."

* * *

Two soft raps at the door and scurrying feet broke the swirl of tense powers batting back and forth—his wolf nature to her witchy one. His nose twitched with the savory smells coming from under the door and Stewart could scarcely contain himself again. Ella cast a quelling look over her shoulder and said tersely, "patience, Stewart."

She opened the door and pulled a caterer's cart into the room, lifting the lid on the dish that had Stewart salivating and all but quivering. His eyes dilated at the strong smell of blood and meat, his claws extending. Growling once more, he snapped as she lifted the veil of magic tamping him down and tossed the rare steak. He caught it in midair and tore in, jaws grinding and chewing, tearing the flesh as bloody juices dribbled down his chin.

Ella watched the display grimly. _This will not do_ , she reasoned. But as she watched, she began to formulate a plan for Stewart's training. He would have to be put in his place, she knew. Wolves of all kinds, even werewolves, had an established hierarchy. Part of Stewart's bad behavior, she knew was due to the anxiety of not being taken care of by his alpha and trying to run things on his own. Instead of having an established pecking order in that office, there was chaos by a lazy leader who refused to see what was in front of him and who refused to take measures to care for his crew until he had been bitten. Stewart needed rules and expectations. And structure. More than anything, he needed to know he was taken care of, or he had a tendency to lash out irrationally. He murdered his former mate when he felt abandoned and desperate. Mating with her in the first place had been a bid for dominance, as had vying for his boss's job. When his boss finally cornered him and demanded he resign, it only threw Stewart further into panic. A panicking beta with no direction and no recourse. That is exactly what had landed him on her property with so much damage in his wake. He needed to be seen to, cared for, nourished and nurtured. But moreover, he needed some direction and purpose.

Stewart finished the entire meal before he noticed the mess he had made. Blood and bits of meat covered his shirt, his hands and face, the throw. He looked balefully up at Ella and tried in vain to lick the worst from his mouth. It looked so childish and helpless that Ella nearly laughed. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. _What an undertaking this man is going to be_ , she thought.

To Stewart she said, "you're getting a bath!"


	3. Chapter 3

Cht 3

Ella answered the door herself at the insistent knock, which surprised Laura. The woman's face was marred with bruises, and Ella did not miss the haunted look in her darkened eyes. She stood aside and led her friend and neighbor into the sitting room, told a servant standing off to the side to send up tea, and took Laura's hand as soon as they were seated.

"He is here," Ella started matter of factly. Laura immediately tensed and Ella squeezed her hand reassuringly, never letting go of it. "I have him in thrall, he will not hurt you Laura. Nor will he come after you."

"Ella! How can you—" Laura stammered aghast at one of her oldest friends. The stirrings of betrayal rose through the shock at Ella's statement.

"I have taken him as my charge. From here out, he is my responsibility. I know what he's done," she said quellingly, over Laura's continued remonstrations, even as the tea cart arrived. "He needs a firm hand and an established pecking order. He will no longer be a threat."

"Ella, he isn't a horse who's hard to break!" Laura ground out, "he murdered my boyfriend's ex! He tried to rape me!"

Her voice broke with the declaration, and Ella solemnly nodded.

"I know it, I saw. And I am so, so sorry that happened. But you do have to take into account that the wolf nature took over and exacerbated Stewart's inner nature. Nature, in and of itself, is wild and often violent. All of that is a bid for dominance in a turf war that started with men and ended with animals. When Stewart attacked he was more wolf than man, and it was a bid for a mate and to establish dominance. He never could have taken you; your alpha always would have won. Stewart is only a beta, and he would always cower as long as the dominance was established. Your mate never did that. If I'm not mistaken, you shot Stewart, yes?"

"Yes," Laura acknowledged tearfully.

"Then karmically you two are now balanced. Will went after him for mating with his wife, then again after her death and in defense of you. They are balanced as well. You both sent him off with his tail metaphorically tucked between his legs. He knows he is outclassed, and he grudgingly admits he needs my protection. He nipped me."

Laura's face swarmed with emotions, as more shock, sadness and even some fear warred across her features.

"I will be fine," Ella said gravely. "This actually affords me an opportunity to better keep him in check. You know I am an alpha, Laura."

"I do," Laura said slowly, reasoning it out, "and I know you are powerful. But I still don't know how you can do this? Those weren't his only crimes! Both our guards—"

"I'll exact your pound of flesh for each of them, make no worry. Their deaths were not in vain, at any rate. They died defending you, didn't they?"

"Yes," she said a bit guiltily.

"Look, Laura," Ella, said squeezing her hand once again. "None of you had any idea the ramifications of what happened. No one had any control, including Stewart. Will is not completely clean in this either, even though that initial bite was an accident. He bit another man's hand nearly off, and as a result that man will turn as well. He bit you, he bit Stewart…his impulse control is weak-especially for an alpha. There has to be a point where you all learn how to control the animal versus human impulse, so that no more tragedies happen. Before long, that will be my struggle as well. Being aware of it will help me. Checking the lore for a treatment may help. Unfortunately there is no cure."

Laura sighed deeply, absorbing all of this.

"I don't know how to feel about this," she said, resignedly. "I don't know what to think or do…"

Ella reached up and brushed a hand over the other woman's hair. "It will come. You and your alpha will cling to each other. I will pass on to you whatever I can, whatever I learn. You're changing quickly already, by the next full moon you will have transitioned fully, as will I. We are on this course, all of us, like it or not. As the saying goes, 'fate keeps on happening.' We'll see how it spins out."

Ella emitted a low groan as they both heard a sharp thump from upstairs.

"What is that?" Laura asked worriedly.

"Stewart," Ella replied resignedly. "I left him in the bath. Clearly he needs supervision."

* * *

Ella was at a loss for words when she checked in upstairs. She had sent Laura on her way, with more assurances that she would handle both Stewart and their developing transformations. When she poked her head through the bathroom doorway, there was a fully wolfed out Stewart shaking sullenly in a corner of the tiled room while what appeared to be half the bathtub's worth of water pooled over the floor in every direction.

"You truly are more dog than man," she said wryly, taking in the scene and shaking her head. At the sound of her voice, Stewart started and stared back at her, openly stroking himself almost thoughtfully. "Oh no, you don't," was her sharp reply. "Not yet."

He bounced toward her almost jubilantly, an all too human smirk on his lips. Rather than use magic this time, she deftly spun him across her hip as he lunged, using his trajectory and body weight against him. He landed with a humphing thump on the floor and she took full advantage to swipe a sharp cracking smack across his behind.

The slap only spurned him on and he turned with a wicked grin, now fully erect. "I guess they don't call it a little slap and tickle for nothing…this will definitely be more than a tickle though," he snarked.

Ella laughed mirthlessly. "I suppose it is time for your first lesson, Stewart and no, it won't tickle."

With a wave of her hand, she summoned a pair of silver handcuffs that clasped over his wrists even as he prepared to launch himself at her again. Howling in rage, Stewart snarled and made to break the cuff links.

"Not happening," she mocked in a sing song voice. "Those are silver cuffs, dear heart, they are impervious to you. Remember? Silver is the one thing that can harm you, and it is the one thing that can hold you."

Stewart shot her a look of beastly loathing. Ella merely laughed at his discomfort. "Do you want me, Stewart?" she asked pointlessly. Stewart was quite prominently erect and crawling toward her even as she spoke, deep guttural growls emanating from him. He would tear her apart if he could, but she was not about to let that happen. He got close enough that he thought he could tackle her and she spun him off once again, only to land behind him. She threw herself over the top of him and he tried to buck her off. She clasped one hand over the linked cuffs and another grasped his shaft. All of a sudden he stopped when she clamped a vice-like grip over his penis. She loosened her grasp slightly and stroked once. He all but arched into her and bucked his hips against her hand, trying to stroke repeatedly into her.

"Uh uh uh," she mocked, "you'll get there. But first, I have to show you who's boss." She leaned over his back and nipped lightly at his ear. He wiggled under her, groaning aloud, and she began stroking again. All of a sudden, she let go of his cock and delivered a sharp smack to his tightly rounded bum. He reared up and nearly broke her grasp over the handcuffs.

"What the hell are you doing?" the man in him demanded, insulted.

"Exactly as I said," she smiled into his ear. She reached back around and begin palming him again, long lazy strokes from root to tip. She circled a finger over the opening at the tip, which was already weeping with the first traces of semen. He was primed, she knew.

Ella ran her hand up the inside of his thigh and he groaned pleasurably before he could protest more. With a whisper of magic, her clothes disappeared and she stood, stepping around his body so he could see her fully nude in front of him. His eyes raked over her, devouring her form with his golden gaze. Ella kept her hand clasped over his cuffs and began to lead him over to a padded bench at the foot of her bed. She moved the bench a couple of feet out into the room, revealing a length of chain bolted to the floor beneath it. To this she secured Stewarts restraints, forcing him to lean over the bench on all fours. She could see his cock quivering slightly, but she focused her attention on the tight ass exposed to her as he bent over. She ran a hand down one cheek and he wiggled, bucking backwards against her with another growl. As she placed herself squarely behind him, she flexed both hands over each cheek, squeezing and cupping him. She delivered one more smack across both cheeks and reached under to stroke his taint, teasing, driving him mad from want.

Stewart was panting, chest heaving, not sure whether to fight or fuck. She was driving him absolutely insane and he couldn't get enough. He bucked again, trying to rut against the bench for some relief at least, when he heard her summon something else. He leaned his head to the side to see a large heavy trunk slide its way across the floor to her. She rummaged through it quickly, taking out a bottle of lube and a…strap on. _Oh no_ , he thought, _nononononono. Fuck that! No_. He pulled against the restraints, tugging and growling, the wolf taking full control out of sheer panicked instinct. _What does she think she's going to do with that_ , he wondered. But he knew. He knew.

Ella smiled, her face obscured as she still sat behind him, but she ran a hand through his hair as he tried to leap and back away, tugging furiously at the chain. Frustrated growls and whimpers erupted from him and he turned his head and actually snapped his teeth at her.

"Stewart," she said plyingly, "it won't hurt. You'll probably even like it."

She strapped on the device and squeezed a bit of lube onto her palm, then resumed stroking Stewart's large member. It throbbed in her hand and began stiffening up again, however much it had gone flaccid from his earlier panic. Ella reached a second hand under him and cupped his sack, squeezing lightly as her stroking got stronger and more fluid with the lubricant. Stewart's eyes nearly rolled back in his head and he unconsciously began grinding his hips against her hands. While he was doing so, she slipped a lubed finger around to his anus and circled it while she leaned forward and placed kisses along his shoulders and neck. He paid no notice, even as she poked a finger inside him and she stroked quicker along his length. When she picked up the pace, he groaned, and she took the opportunity to stick a second finger in his orifice, probing at the prostate two inches inward. The girl stimulating his male G spot had him writhing his backside against her hand, even more frenzied than before.

Ella quickly removed her fingers, grabbed the lube and saturated the synthetic penis attached to her hips. She renewed the vigor of Stewart's hand job by using both hands now and probing gently at his anus with the tip of the rubber tool. He bucked against it and nearly scrambled forward again, but Ella held him fast by the penis. She pushed slightly inward and continued stroking with one hand while she reached between them with the other and pulsed at his perineum. The combination of all three points made Stewart lose control at last. He bucked and writhed with the feeling of utter fullness. He felt penetrated _fucking everywhere_ and he couldn't stand it. His chest heaved as he pulsed his hips between her hand and hips, bumping, grinding and gyrating in complete abandon. Ella fisted him rapidly, feeling his balls tighten against her knuckles while she worked his erection, pumping and pulsing against his thick veiny organ. Stewart couldn't help it. He threw his head back and howled as his balls, butt and cock tightened uncontrollably and pumped seed all over the bench in front of him.

He fell forward, slightly dizzy from the strength of his climax, taking the girl with him thanks to the strap-on that still linked them both. Ella, panting slightly from her own exertion, eased the dildo out of Stewart and leaned forward to lick his earlobe.

"Good job Stewart," she said, then patted his bum. "I'll get a cloth and clean you up. Take a breath."

Stewart was surprised he didn't pass out as she padded away to the bathroom. He stayed there, laying in the sticky wetness, and tried not to lose consciousness. His panting slowed by the time she returned, with a warm wet cloth and a glass of water. He drank thirstily as she tipped the glass to his mouth, but managed to barely spill any. He sat still while she wiped the semen from his belly and the bench, but his brow furrowed when she draped a huge fluffy blanket at the foot of the bed.

"This is for you," she said, patting the cover. "You earn your place to sleep at the top with me, and you earn your freedom from the restraints. We have trust to build between each other, Stewart, but tonight was the first step. You know now that I am in charge here. I am your alpha, and as I change and I need to rut in heat, you will know that I need you to be able to step up and take charge even when I am weak. You have to be my second, but you have to be able to be trusted first. If I cannot trust you, then we accomplish nothing. If you continue being the scurrilous little rodent that you have been, you most likely will be killed. No one needs to consider you competition."

He narrowed his eyes at her as she pushed the bench away toward the wall and settled the trunk beside it.

"Laura was here earlier," she stated matter of factly, and had the satisfaction of seeing him blanch before looking sheepish. "I could have sent Will straight to you through her, but I convinced her that you are under my charge and are now harmless."

He shifted weight from foot to foot when Ella leveled her gaze at him. "If you give me any reason to doubt myself on that point, Stewart, I will do for you myself. Do you understand?"

Stewart gulped involuntarily. "Yes."

"Your behavior dictates how I treat you."

"Al—alright, we'll just ah—"

"I mean it Stewart. If you harm any of my staff, me—anyone or anything while you are under my care—I will put you down like the dog you are becoming. You have the absolute power of controlling your nature, your urges, and your transition, and you are now accountable."

"Yes ma'am," he scoffed. A crop he hadn't noticed that was hanging on the wall beside him launched itself into the air and delivered a sharp swipe across his backside. Stewart yelped and leaped, slashing out at the airborne whip. It resettled itself on the wall.

" _No_ smart back talk," Ella said simply. "You will call me Mistress, as that is what I am to you. The longer you act more like a wolf than a man, the longer I treat you like one. Show me you can control yourself and the chain comes off; show me how to act like a man and you sleep up here with me," she said, patting the pillow beside her as she settled herself on the bed.

"Do you understand, Stewart?"

"Yes." Though his words were simple, the challenge was alight in his eyes. The little sycophant would be devious and underhanded about it, but he would test her. The chain rattled as he climbed up on the bed and made a business of settling himself in the blanket she had provided. The lights dimmed as if of their own accord, and Stewart shivered a bit at his strange new predicament. He would grudgingly admit that he had enjoyed his pegging, but at the same time he began to plot away at how he could mount this slim little vixen whose bed he shared. He so wanted to chew on her thighs, and he still was not entirely sure whether he wanted to take a bite as well.


	4. Chapter 4

Cht 4

Stewart was fucking _miserable_. His silver cuffs were on, his chain lengthened to allow him room to move about the master suite, though he thought her chief reason for allowing him the ability to move was so he could make it to the toilet without having to piss on the floor. He was tempted to do it anyway, just to prove a point. He paced. He drug the bench over to the window and watched the groundskeepers and wildlife, which only made him hungry. He napped. He had an emotional and very pitched battle with himself over sending back the sushi grade salmon she had sent up. The smell had got to him eventually, but he drew the line at licking the plate. _How's that for impulse control_ , he scoffed.

He scratched his belly, idly wondering if he should try to read one of her books or if he should shred all of them. He couldn't do it. Despite every bad thing about himself, Stewart genuinely loved reading. He loved the smell of the pages and the escape of the story. He couldn't do it.

At the knock on the door, he stretched leisurely and tried to appear nonchalant when Ella entered with a laptop. He lounged on her side of the bed, wearing only his pair of faded jeans. He smirked openly when her gaze swept up and down his form.

"Like what you see?" he purred.

"Yes and no," Ella replied smoothly.

"Gorgeous specimen of a man though you are, it tends to die out at your personality."

He dropped the smirk and rolled over, facing his back to her.

She almost hummed approvingly at his backside, but steeled herself against it.

"You do, however, have a lot of potential in that department as well," she continued, "and that is what we need to exercise. You need to have a channel, to feel productive and have purpose. I have brought you something that should do."

"What is it," he asked tersely, not turning over.

"Well, since you worked in books before and know the ins and outs of production, editing and such, I think I would have you test the waters insofar as appraisals."

He fought the brief and silent war in his head about letting her know his interest was piqued, but interest won out because he was dreadfully bored. When he rolled back over, jangling the chain loudly as he went, she knew she had him hooked. Ella placed the laptop beside him and grabbed an armload of books off the shortest bookcase close to her and set them beside Stewart.

"These are my latest acquisitions and I need someone to both verify their authenticity and give feedback on their value."

He ran a thumb over the spines and his own stiffened. Most of these works, if legitimate, were some of Dostoevsky's earliest influences. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. _Good thing I didn't decide to shred everything_ , he reasoned.

He was already thumbing through pages of the first book, muttering to himself about the writing style, the apparent age of the book and the likelihood of its being an authentic copy of the first volume of Nikolay Karamzin's _History of the Russian State_ , so Ella stepped quietly out of the room and smiled to herself in the hallway. As long as he was idle, Stewart was liable to start causing mischief. Giving him a fulfilling role would both give him purpose and settle his anxieties, plus it kept him out of trouble and souring their burgeoning relationship.

Her smile dropped at the thought of turning him loose just yet though. She had to know he could be trusted with the staff, and for that, she needed to continue research on managing their predicament.

She traipsed back down the hall to her library and began poring over volumes and tomes of werewolf lore, searching for something to help them. Everything she had found thus far named silver—bullets or otherwise—as a means of restraining or killing a werewolf. _Well we don't need that_ , she reasoned tersely. There was even a charm that required burying silver at each of the cardinal corners of the owner's property, to protect from werewolves…but that would essentially make them a prisoner in her own home. _His home too now_ , she mentally corrected herself.

* * *

It was hours later, the light had dimmed and night was creeping closer. A staff member had already told her that Stewart had accepted the pork loin she had sent up, this time without snarling and sniffing at the unfortunate maid. He was making marginal progress she thought, as she scribbled down more notes. So had she. She had followed her gut and starting looking into shapeshifting lore to cross reference after turning up zilch on werewolf herbs. Wolfsbane, though effective at warding them off, did nothing for someone already bitten.

"Rowan, mallow, and St John's Wort," she breathed, writing out the brew's recipe. "To be steeped during the waxing moon, by the light of the moon, and drunk on the full of the moon to keep from shifting. Perfect timing!"

Stewart had made his way into her life during the full moon. As it was now waning, she had plenty of time to prepare. All of the ingredients were easily attainable and already in her own apothecary.

She could use this time to help ease into her own transition and for she and Stewart to get used to each other. She way she craved meat lately, she knew the changes would start coming fast.

That night before bed, she burned tobacco and yew in the bedroom fireplace, left a smoldering cigar there too, and asked her totems to help her on her way.

Stewart grumbled about the smell, but was more curious about to how her magic worked so he still watched from his corner on the bed. He twitched his blanket over him and lay his head on the pillow he'd swiped earlier. Ella had noticed the missing pillow, and smiled as she slid between the covers and switched the light off, wondering what her dreams would bring.


End file.
